A Knight's Dragon KR Classic 1980's
by hummergrey
Summary: Kitt's offical FLAG report versus what happens on a mission when everything goes wrong for Michael Knight and his relearning what friendship with an AI really means.
1. Chapter 1

I do good dialogue and lousy descriptions so bear with me please. And I desperately need beta readers who know the original classic Knight Rider show. Please review. And yes, chapters will be added fairly fast and regularly. Have lots of ideas but need to get them organized. Usually write marvel superhero x-men but current obsession is KR 1980's and Kitt. Light and fluffy for now. More serious fics later. I do NOT own Knight Rider, Glen A Larson created and managed the series. I do not own David Hasslehoff aka Michael Knight (though I wish I did) nor KITT nor Devon or anyone else from the show. Strictly for fun as a fandom fic.

_A Knight's dragon. _

_A fic based on Kitt's FLAG official report on a mission when everything goes wrong for Michael Knight._

Kitt sat in the hospital parking lot, compiling his mission log for Devon. 'It had begun so beautiful', he thought.

***5: 35 am Surveillance Mode, FLAG guest cottage, California Gold Sands ***

Kitt watched the sun start its ascent over the beach, naught on surveillance scanners except a few seagulls. No humans nearby, no one trying to kill his partner or him. No other cars were allowed on the private property, no movement except sand scattering in the gentle breeze. The sun rose higher, its light shining through the house windows without disturbing the occupant within. The pounding of the surf was calming as the AI continued his vigilance.

*** 9:45 am FLAG call for mission briefing***

The microwave transmission line flashed to life, indicating a call inbound. Coding identified FLAG Headquarters, Devon's Miles, CEO Knight Industries, private office line number.

Beeping the comm unit twice, he announced, "Michael, Devon is calling." No response at the other end. He tried again with no response. Scans indicated a prone human figure on the floor of the living room, breathing but asleep. The watch unit was sitting on the bedroom nightstand. 'Time for the old fashioned way.' Air sucked in the side vent, funneled through a narrow tube then blasted out the external speakers. "MICHAEL WAKE UP!" The figure inside jerked then moved, as Kitt stalled.

"Good morning Devon. Michael is indisposed at the moment. How may I assist?" His tone was neutral.

"New mission briefing. How long will Michael be?"He waited then guessed after the lack of an answer. "Another long night?"

"A party up the road. And it's a good thing I can auto drive, that is all I will say on the matter." His front sensor tracked back and forth rapidly, displaying exasperation.

"I see." He smiled. "I'll instruct Bonnie to send mission details, maps, witness contacts, and related. No urgency on the matter. Call me when ready, Devon out. "

***10:04 am Consultation with Michael regarding status and daytime itinerary***

Michael Knight staggered out the kitchen door, his bare feet almost noiseless on the wood deck. He moved slowly, shielding his eyes from the light until he reached the edge rail, balancing against it.

"Kitt?"

"Right here on the sand. From your vitals, I would suggest you neither move quickly or unexpectedly. Elevated body temperature, headache, nausea, and sensitivity to light and noise are symptoms I surmise you are now experiencing. "

"In other words," he yawned then made a grimace at the taste in his mouth, "I'm hung-over. "

"Really Michael. Was last night necessary?"

"I think so. Tell you more when I remember it." He stumbled down the steps, nearly falling. Kitt immediately rolled forward while opening the passenger side door. His driver swayed, and then balanced on the edge of the open door, eyes closed. Sensors noted the shirt was buttoned wrong, at least three separate lipstick patterns were on or near the collar and two different names and phone numbers were written on the jean pants pockets. "Did I miss anything?"

"Besides a shower?" Kitt quipped.

"Smart-alecky car." Michael said, dropping onto the seat. Sighing, he leaned back. "Don't go anywhere for awhile ok?"

"Not planning too. But you need personal care."

"Open the sunroof in a car wash?"

Kitt gathered information to respond on dangerous chemicals in the cleaning fluids and his dislike of the brushes on the external armor shell when he realized it was an attempt at humor. Experience taught silence was the best response until further humor or a command was given.

Twenty minutes later, the silence was broken by a groan and "I need coffee." Sitting up by bracing on the sides on the steering yoke then reaching for the door, he pulled himself up and out. Kitt auto closed the door, took an air reading and rolled down both windows. He watched to make sure the human reached the house safely then resumed watching the ocean.

***11:32 FLAG second call for mission briefing. ***

The driver seat was now properly occupied. Bleary eyed but awake, he focused on the monitor image trying to ignore the cheerful smirk of his boss. The man behind the desk wore his white Aramani suit naturally, carrying the authority of his position quietly, his eyes sparkling with intelligence and a wicked sharp sense of humor. Every file was neat and orderly as the facts and figures contained in his mind.

"Devon it's too early."

"Nonsense. It's nearly afternoon in fact. I've been up since 5 am. Had a bracing run around the complex and a leisure breakfast. Clean living and a true purpose does wonders." He straightened, tapping the folder on his desk. "Kitt has the mission briefing. Nothing too difficult. Possible drug running through a rural county, harassing dairy farmers, that sort of thing."

"Why not let the locals handle it?" He ran fingers through hair still damp from the shower. "What's the catch?" wondering how many more painkillers his stomach could handle on only coffee.

"No catch. The farmers' co-op supplies the foundation with milk and cheese for the orphanages and food banks all across the country. Already there are disruptions and that is unacceptable. Minor detail to officials, they have plenty of money to buy what they need."

"Understood Devon. We're on our way." He said, slumping the moment the monitor went black. "Kitt, are you ready?"

"Affirmative. I recommend you acquire shoes and other clothing as appropriate. And eat something. Bonnie had me detailed last week and I prefer a pristine interior." He ignored the hand gesture made towards his dash and tisked at the sand left behind on the floor mats. His partner walked back to the house, barefoot and in boxers.

***11:48 am. Discussion with partner regarding mission contingencies. Course plotted and approved.***

"Darn it!" A slap to the steering yoke emphasized the emotion.

"What?" Kitt inquired; barely paying attention as he linked into the overhead satellite to verify a clear route should super speed be needed or demanded. The rest of his processors computed safe distances between vehicles in front and behind and probable road hazards. Too many rockets, explosives and mad men driving armored vehicles had literally appeared out of nowhere to threaten for the possibility to be ignored.

"I forgot my jacket."

"Your shirt, jeans and cowboy boots should be adequate protection enough. We're in California, not Alaska. Your comm link is required. The rest is extraneous though four bags in my trunk are a bit much even for you." When no threats appeared, probability calculations ran and settled defensive scanning into a lower processing queue.

"You can always buy another one. That would make you collection an even half dozen."

"Never can have too many coats. They keep you warm, feel good and right now, I could use it to hide under. Dim the windows buddy?" Then sighed in relief as they turned opaque black. "Plot a course, normal speed, straight ahead whatever."

"Shall I try to avoid all bumps and potholes too?"

"Would you?" he replied, sliding the driver seat back then stretching out his full six foot plus body length. "You drive."

"I have been since we left the beach. Will there be anything else?" A snore was his only answer. 'Of all the ungrateful…next time he needs help, maybe he should call his coat. I mean really.' The AI grumbled to himself, checking and cross checking routes and potential ambush points as programming required. It was his friendship that kept the left side ejection button from firing.


	2. Chapter 2

***3:56 Reconnaissance of trailer at 15134 Park Lane, rural Clear County, last known address of suspected informant / computer chip thief. Note: Have Bonnie upgrade shock absorbers to increase the allowed range of suspension movement***

"Do you have to hit every one!"

"Really, Michael. The road is unpaved, has experienced numerous rain falls and my shock absorption system is adequate for most encounters of rough terrain. Statistically, I am hitting very few." His sleek black Trans am body was covered with dust, turning it a a dull tan, smeared here and there from contact with overgrown weeds. Tracking scanners noted the deepest and widest holes and guided left then sharp right to avoid them. His driver was pale, and swallowed convulsively, as the car bounced side to side then up and down several times.

"How about some air?"

"Not advisable. I dare not expose my interior to such dusty conditions nor run the air conditioning. It would take Bonnie a week to clear my intake filters. Be patient, we are almost there." The road began flattening, showing distinct tire tracks on its edges. Rounding a curve, the trail ended into a widened area, mobile trailer and leaning carport. He slowed, alert for any attacking activity from behind or around the structures.

The decrepit single wide trailer was covered in vines, nearly obscuring the dirty windows. Food cartons were thrown here and there as though the owner simply opened the door and chucked them out. "Looks abandoned" his driver commented, releasing the seat belt. Kitt immediately opened the driver door, rolling down the windows.

"I detect numerous small creatures."

"Rats."

"Very accurate Michael." He was pleased at his partner finally showing some interest in the mission. The drive had been long and the only conversation had been negative in nature.

"I meant it's a dead end. No one has lived here for a long time. Are you sure this is the address left on the foundations tip line?" He leaned on the door frame, removing his sunglasses and pocketing them while watching the trailer.

"Affirmative. The request for help specified the chip was nearby this location and the person calling needed protection when it was discovered missing. Its data lists all known routes, contacts and shipments of illegal drugs through the area."

"A simple yes would suffice."

Kitt refused to say the responses his central processor produced readily and would have sighed if the AI could have. 'What is wrong with him? The last time we weren't talking was our first mission; due to a lack of knowledge about my capabilities. Why now?' He wondered, rapidly comparing previous mission behaviors with the last few days, wanting to find an answer.

"Is there a problem Kitt?"Michael was staring at his dash, obviously waiting.

"The metal of the structure is interfering with my ability to search for something as tiny as a microchip or log book."

"My turn then. Sooner we are out of here the better. Place gives me the creeps. Keep your scanners peeled," Michael said, approaching the sagging front door gingerly, tugging it open. More trash fell out, beer bottles, discarded cans of baked beans, and crumpled newspapers. The floor was buckled but held, creaking under his boots. The raised ceiling bore signs of water damage and wires dangled from what was once a light fixture.

"Now where would I hide a super secret microchip? Same place as the broom and vacuum apparently. This place is a dump." Rotted leather furniture was tipped on its side, the trash inside was worse. Old clothing, magazines, broken toys littered the frayed carpet. He glanced around, seeing no obvious hiding places, reluctant to go searching by hand. "Kitt, how tall is this guy again?"

"Six feet nine inches. Does that have any bearing on this case?"

"It might. Tall people hide stuff in tall places. Like built in wall shelves. There is a gap between the top and the ceiling on each one. Four to search, shouldn't take too long. " The first three in the living room were empty and dusty. Each time, he wiped the hair and lint off on his shirt edge then tried the next top. The fourth was in the kitchen dining room area, containing discarded cups and glasses. Stepping over a broken chair, he stretched, softly patting the top. His fingers felt a square surface and it slid with a little push. "I think I just about got it."

Kitt's auditory sensors registered a distinctive snap sound followed by a high pitched scream. "Michael, what's wrong?"

Inside, Michael shook his right hand, then holding it with his left, tears in his eyes as he kicked the snapped mousetrap into the next room. 'Miserable…rotten…thing!" He swore. "Who puts those things on top of a shelf anyways! Mice run on the floor!"

"On the contrary, rodents run on nearly every available surface." Kitt corrected. "Your fingers are not broken, just bruised. "

"Meow." A thin high cry sounded from his feet. Glancing down, he saw a kitten struggling to walk on its tiny legs. Holding his injured hand against his chest, he knelt and cupped his good hand around it. The little furball shrank on itself, and then cautiously sniffed the skin before it, sneezing. It meowed again, pushing to get away. He half scooped it up, easily holding its fragile body.

The comm link beeped twice. "Michael, do not move."

"I won't hurt this little guy." He said, as its meows became louder.

"You are in imminent danger," Kitt warned again.

"It's a kitten for Pete's sake."

"I was referring to its eighteen pound tabby mother sitting above your right." Michael heard the hiss then, slowly turning up to face a much larger version of the grey furball he now held. A fang showing, narrow slitted eyed version. Neither moved. Then the kitten meowed. And mom answered.

*** 5:15 Clean-up and reset of partner at Shady Acres Hotel, Room 132. Reminder: verify medical file for last tetanus shot date.***

"Really, Michael. Your wounds are not that serious. "

He glanced in the mirror over his shoulder, dabbing at the bleeding tracks down his back. "Its how many Kitt," he gritted out, rinsing the rag again in cold water. From neck to hip parallel scratches marred the skin.

"Do you want to go out?" He offered, hoping to provide a distraction.

"I'm not in the mood for company right now."

"Even mine?"

"I always need you buddy."That single phrase reassured Kitt. He ran its tone, vocal quality and stridence against known speech patterns and verified it as the absolute truth.

Author's Note: Don't get spoiled by 2 chapters in 2 days. I will try and keep up but no guarantees. And lot more is coming. Keep reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: This part, a chapter or so will bog down a little. Need to set up characters for later action and the opening sequence to a long lasting problem.

***5:45 pm Dinner time. Interaction with locals and preliminary information gathering. ***

Michael climbed the diner steps, careful not to jar his back or hand_._ The odors of fresh bread, grease and onion flowed out from the open door. Practically drooling, he walked in and sat down at the counter. The waitress noticed him sitting stiffly at the counter almost immediately. "Yum," she commented to the cook. "Tall, dark, and no ring on his left hand. " Grabbing a menu and glass of water, she approached and began rattling off the specials.

Outside, Kitt's front sensor faded out, staying alert but unseen. There had been a time when he would have spoke to anyone getting close, no longer. 'Small towns mean big trouble,' Kitt thought. 'And their impound yards are the worst. Muddy ground, a half breed mutt to pee on my tires and fingerprints on my doors as they attempt entry. As if they could understand what I have. Even Michael is still learning.' He zoomed his camera on his partner, catching the flirting looks he exchanged with the waitress.

Footsteps approached and he verified sound depth, walking speed and purpose of the walker. The figure moved into view, confirming his readings. Petite, she moved with a steady stride and scanned everything around her. Bending down, she read his front license plate as though committing it to memory then shrugged. Approaching the diner, she observed everyone's position and movement before entering and greeting the owner and the waitress. She glanced over then snorted, dismissing the stranger before sitting at the counter two spaces further down.

In the parking lot, Kitt reviewed her appearance for practice. Female, brunette, age thirty five to thirty eight, five foot four, small boned, muscular, left handed, and used to carrying an object on her left side by arm spacing. 'Not Michael's type.' He recalibrated his scanners, watching the crows digging through discarded trash by the back dumpsters.

While eating, Michael continued flirting with the waitress, to the apparent amusement of the woman on his left. He finished his meal, barely glancing at her as he paid and left a tip. She turned and watched him walk out and across the parking lot before turning back to begin questioning the waitress.

***6:40 pm Began search of Township and surrounding areas, Keelson Rd West. Personal Note: Review rules and guidelines for undercover work with Michael, referring to previous FLAG cases where cover was "blown" and injury and complications occurred***

"You were not truthful with her." Kitt admonished, auto opening the driver door.

"Girls like to hear cop stuff. I never said _where_ I _had been_ a cop exactly and a little stretching of the truth is expected." Michael replied, his boots crunching on the gravel. "Waitresses don't care about illegal parking, or hours spent watching someone hoping they will make a move. That's for locals." He ran his tongue over his teeth, savoring the last bit of spices of the steak. "I identified myself as a _private investigator_. And if word gets around I'm investigating their problem, they might help. "

"Or categorize you as a threat and attempt to kill you."

"Good thing I have you huh?" He said, climbing in, gingerly leaning onto the leather seat. "Want to drive?"

"Has your pain increased?" Kitt asked. "Your movement was unhindered ten minutes ago."

"I meant drive around the area, trying to locate possible routes and know which farmers are being harassed the worse to find a pattern. " He bypassed the comment, irritated at the teasing. "Or did you other plans tonight?"

In response, the driver door auto closed, the mechanism silent and precise. A single spark ignited the fuel in his drive reactor and the engine fired up. "All systems go. Running data lists for comparisons to geographical landmarks and vehicles." He waited for a blue pickup to enter the parking lot and get clear then spun his wheels rapidly in place, scattering small stones before jumping ahead onto the paved road heading south as fast as the posted speed limit allowed.

"Show off." Michael muttered then looked up through the sun roof, enjoying the red and pinks of the sky as the sun set. He relaxed, watching the stars appear one by one.

***7:25 Keelson Rd East, attempted pursuit of suspect vehicle, Brown 1985 Dodge Hatchback, license plate reading 'homboy.'***

Ahead, a flashing yellow traffic light blinked its lonely existence at a four corner crossing. Kitt slowed, monitoring traffic in all directions. A single vehicle, a brown dodge hatchback with an out of state plate reading 'homboy' drove past by in the opposite direction. The two men inside laughed, gesturing to one another, oblivious to the shiny black car. One was an older man, thin and grubby; the other had a black cap on that blocked most of his face, leaving only a jagged scar on his chin showing.

"Michael!" Kitt yelled. "That vehicle matches a description." He spun the car body around, then accelerated hard, ignoring his partner's gasp as the g forces pushed on him. The chase was on.

The brown Dodge hatchback surged ahead, attempting to outrun. "Punch the nitrous!" black cap yelled, reaching into the glove compartment for a pistol as Kitt closed on their back bumper.

"I did!" The other crook shouted, pointing at the depressed lever. "Shoot them!"

"Quit going side to side so I can!" The car hit a pothole and bounced, the motion bouncing the gun from his hand and onto the floor. "He's gaining!"

"We can't go faster!"

"Then go where he can't. There, old man Jaconet's farm." He muttered to himself. "Lose them in the fields. That Pontiac has a lower center. Get hung up fast on the furrows." The car sputtered as the nitrous ran out. Grubby jerked the wheel, sliding uncontrolled to the left, nearly tipping before bouncing down the dirt track between rows of corn. The pistol bounced around the floor and under the seat.

Kitt compressed his brake pads and turned the steering controller enough to drift sideways in perfect alignment to the side road, then floored the accelerator. He reveled in the smoothness of his transition compared to other's attempt.

The crook looked out the window in disbelief at the Trans Am mirroring them. The corn grew on either side, blocking out everything else. A yellow triangle marked with a cross hatch pattern appeared in the headlights on the side before they shot by it.

"Go right. Next furrows over!" Black cap shouted, showing the direction with his hands. The driver obeyed, nearly grounding on the middle dirt humps. He glanced back, curling his lips in a snarl. "Pretty boy gonna wipe for sure."

The change of course was noted and duly tagged by Kitt's trackers as a standard attempt to evade. Then a large mass registered directly ahead.

"What is that?" Michael said as he leaned forward to see what the headlights were reflecting. He yelled, "Kitt!" even as he tried to reach for the turbo boost.

Kitt's sensory timing slowed to milliseconds as the shape and size registered. Programming ran possible options, discarded all but two then unhesitatingly selected the one favoring the greatest internal protection.

Michael gasped as the boost engaged before he reached it, surging them up and forward. Metal pipe work exploded outward, flying all directions as the magna armored car plowed through the center of it. A geyser of water shot straight up, raining down more metal parts and pieces.

They landed, gouging out a wide trench through the corn then swung the direction of the fleeing Dodge.


	4. Chapter 4

***7:32 Attempted capture of two suspected felons in Dodge Hatchback in middle of cornfield. Note: restock ice packs in first aid kit; and request low level pain medications for driver use. ***

Kitt powered up to the right. Judging the distance, he swung his front end over, tapping the rear quarter panel of the Dodge; a precise shove point started it spinning. The soft dirt prevented traction, keeping the car spinning like a top as the driver panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake. Corn husks went flying everywhere, most being pushed under the car and compacted. The men swayed as the car slowed then stopped. Dark hat gagged, head down, trying not to lose his dinner as the gun slid to a stop against his foot.

Kitt circled out and around, corn stalks crunching under his wheels. Pieces wrapped up under his wheels as he maneuvered to face the other car head on.

"Nice chase Kitt!"

"Remember what Devon always says, 'It's the catching that is the important part.'"

Rolling his eyes, he began pushing the door open with his left hand, holding his right hand against his chest.

"Michael, stay inside!" The door accelerated backward, slamming into his hand. Bullets ricocheted off the side window.

Black cap emptied the entire clip. He blinked, tilting the gun to look down its barrel then back at the car. 'Did I get him?" he thought, watching the man inside holding both hands to his chest. 'Naw, no blood.' "You use real bullets?" he shouted to his grubby cohort.

"I think so."

"You think?!" He threw the gun down, "Think about running!"

"All clear." Kitt called, unlocking the door. "Sorry Michael, there wasn't time. Readings indicate no bones broken."

Michael gritted his teeth, uncurling his hand to ease the throbbing. "Stay here. I'll handle this. "

"There are two of them. I suggest you use extreme caution. "

Ahead, a scream rang out. He homed in on the sound, passing beyond the light of Kitt's headlights. The faint moon showed shaped all around him without detail. He crept forward slowly, trying to perceive the dark mass in front of him. "Think you can stay still and I won't find you," he thought. 'Not too smart.' He grabbed then yelped as pain shot through his hand. Recoiling, he pulled out small fine needle like spines from his hand.

"Kitt, I need you!"

Kitt immediately spun, flashing his high beams on. Cacti! Ranks of cactus with large thorns surrounded the edge of the corn field.

Michael sighed in frustration. The sharp thorns on the deadly plants poked out from among the dark shadows. A piece of cloth fluttered on one particularly long thorn, and he reached out gingerly and pulled it free. It looked like a piece of denim, the exact color that one of the two idiots he had been chasing had had on. He grinned. There was a spot of blood on the corner. This was where they had gone, alright, and good luck to them. He wasn't chasing them.

"We can pursue." Kitt said.

"Only thing I want to pursue is a shower and aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin."

"What about the hatchback?"

"Leave it. We don't want anyone knowing we were here. Check the hospital tomorrow for men with their description, looking like pin cushions. "

**7:42 pm Return to Shady Acres Hotel, Room 132. Discussion concerning safety procedures and** **working relationships***

The drive back to the hotel was uneventful. Kitt examined and reexamined his safety protocols. Had there been another way to guard his main purpose, his reason for protection and existence without slamming that door so fast? Every scenario ended with death or injury. Should he have disobeyed a direct order and kept his driver inside longer or followed him closely, perhaps preventing the encounter with the cactus and the escape of those men? Too many variables were processing for a complete answer.

"Michael, was I in error?"

"As in?"

"Slamming that door and injuring you. " His voice was soft and as close to regret as he could modulate.

"And keeping me alive. No, you did exactly right. You saved my life again and I probably never even thanked you the last ten times."

"You have a few times."

"I've also been a complete jerk lately." He admitted, looking out the side window then back at the dash.

"Lately?" Kitt echoed.

"Don't push it." There was silence as the statement registered, was computed and processed.

"If it is something that affects you then it affects me. "

Michael grinned; remembering how Kitt would not have pursued the matter their first year together or would have stated 'it affects our team capabilities'. Now it was 'affects me'.

"I asked Bonnie out for a date. She turned me down flat." He finally admitted.

"Same reasons as before?"

"No. Worse, much worse. And I don't want to talk about it."

'Ouch.' Kitt winced internally. He knew that tone of voice. Few women have resisted his partner's brown curly hair, blue eyes and muscular physique. When they did, Michael always took it personal. And pouted for an hour or two. But for days? He had to find out what Bonnie had said.

A blinking neon sign showed the entrance to their hotel. Kitt slowed, turning onto the gravel lot, careful to not ricochet the stones below his wheels. "It appears the desk clerk is flagging us down." He lowered the window, ready to snap it up instantly should the man display any aggression or threat.

"Water is out! Stopped about twenty minutes ago. Got a call into the plumber. " He waved his clipboard around for emphasis. "Let you know when I find anything out."

"No shower, great." Michael mumbled, nodding at the young clerk. Another car pulled in behind them and the man jogged past, heading to the other vehicle, repeating his message.

"Do you want to choose another hotel?"

"No, I'll shower tomorrow. Surveillance mode. And Kitt, good night."

"Good night Michael."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: This is NOT a Michael / Bonnie pairing. More going on than revealed so far. Keep reading. Will keep posting chapters. Action will pick up soon.

***6:01 am Shady Acres Hotel, Room 132. Wake Michael and check with Santiam Hospital for two men with relevant injuries to previous night's incident. Personal Journal: For the 44****th**** time, accidentally "lose" Michael's recommendation to install a coffee pot function in my dash or glove box. ***

"Michael? Michael, wake up." A soft computerized voice droned in his ear.

"Kitt? 'ere are 'u?"

"Outside. You're sleeping on the wrist comm again." Kitt said. 'Where else would I be?' he added internally then switched back externally. "Hotels do not accommodate cars."

Michael struggled awake, trying to focus, "it's dark."

"You wanted me to wake you up at six A.M. local time."

"Local? Oh, right. The farm case," He yawned, then fumbled for the light. "Hmmm, ouch!" The light flicked on. He flexed his hand, noting its tightness. The skin was mottled red and white patterns, showing each cactus stab from the night before. His other hand was turning a darker shade across the knuckles, not yet black and blue but close. "Do the bad guys ever sleep?"

"No. Neither do I. Your snoring, however, was loud enough to hear through the door." Kitt joked. "Are you heading for the bathroom? There is no water." Kitt cut the communications signal, 'no need to let my records keep such vulgar phrases for review later.' The internal chronometer calculated precisely one minute forty seconds before he resumed the conversation. "The restaurant opened at five am and per overheard conversations, the pipe assembly we hit last night was the main supply for the town."

"The whole town?" he repeated, his tone incredulous.

"Yes, the whole town. Our part is still undiscovered. They are associating it as more damage by the criminal element as evidence by the abandoned Dodge."

"Let's keep it that way shall we?"

"I intend to. What about Devon?" He asked, not wanting to lie to their boss and mentor. More than once Kitt had heard Devon refer to Michael as his son, often with pride, sometimes with disappointment. Their latest incident was questionable at best.

"Don't tell him." Was the answer. "And I have a request. How about-?"

"No, absolutely not Michael." He said, recognizing the wheedling tone from previous discussions.

"How do you-?"

"Knew what you were about to say? I am programmed to meet your needs." Kitt counted the standard twelve seconds, heard the heavy sigh then the intake of breath for the next predictable discussion point.

"I need-" he started again.

"Coffee is not a need. It is a luxury."

"Humans need it."

"Devon drinks tea." He reminded, noting the argument had nine more points, always there in various order. 'Next will be Devon's upbringing and how the current situation is different. Followed by bringing Bonnie's name into it, our shared history through times good and bad, and possible health benefits of coffee and onward for another twelve point nine minutes. Next response, in exactly, five, four, three, two, one second.'

"Devon is English, and is not in the field chasing bad guys all night then waking before the sun." Michael continued.

"The sun rose twenty three minutes ago and no coffee pot in my dash. That's final."

"I could-"

"No, Bonnie would not agree with you." He waited for the next familiar line of the same argument, hearing only raspy breathing. Seconds passed, and then a full minute and he made a decision. The infrared sensor activated, reading the grey of the walls, penetrating further to reveal the room within. An orange red human shape was sitting on the bed, head bowed. The figure neither moved nor spoke. Kitt dialed Bonnie's cell phone number.

"You've reached Bonnie Barstow, chief mechanic of the Knight Industries program. And Michael, you had better not have wrecked Kitt again. Leave a message at the tone. Or try my other numbers. I'm always reachable."

He tried the garage phone, her FLAG on-site quarters, the computer lab, and the practice track without an answer. Even her apartment phone in the city was unanswered. FLAG's private message line was next and he left the signal requesting contact with the FLAG semi for unspecified maintenance and upgrade, non-emergency. 'That she will answer. And following previous patterns, call me first to see what she needs to bring. ' Kitt keyed any and all incoming responses as high priority, getting instant clearance, second only to the priority of protecting Michael's life.

Shuffling sounds brought his focus back to the room. He closed the infrared system as Michael began dressing, still without talking. Whatever the problem, they would solve it together. They always did.

***6:35 am Diner by the Side of the Road. Equipment request: Cup holder upgrade in my center console to accommodate standard insulated metal thermos and tray to hold two packets instant coffee. ***

The waitress looked up as the front door swung open. "He's back," she told the chef, ducking around the corner. "I'm going to get his phone number this time." She ran a quick hand through her hair, and walked out as if she had only noticed him, grabbing the order pad out of her pocket.

Michael nodded at the waitress, sliding into the nearest open booth. The coffee cup on the table was flipped upright, and slid her direction. "Coffee, black and keep it coming."

"Sorry. No water, no coffee." She said, clicking the pen in her hand several times. "We got juice and milk." Her hopes of that phone number began to sink.

"French toast with side of ham then. "

"No food made with raw eggs. No way for the cook to wash his hands or the dishes. Food laws you know. No meat either. Cold cereal with milk?" she countered, dropping the pen and pad into her apron pocket.

"Hot oatmeal?"

"No water to boil the oatmeal." She said, taking a step back, crossing her arms. 'Does this city dude not get it or what? No water means no water and what you use it for. Thought he was some smart detective. No wonder someone sent him here to catch cow tippers.'

"Cheese Omelet?" He pointed to the next item on the menu.

"Takes raw eggs. How about biscuits with milk gravy?"

"Anything without milk?"

"Course not." She laughed, leaning forward, whispering, "We're a dairy co-op town."

"Right. " He extended the word out. "Large orange juice and a cinnamon roll. You do have pastries?"

***6:52 pm Log Entry***

Kitt waited at the farthest end of the parking lot, trying to compose a suitable log entry. The blinking cursor waited at mid point in the sentence on the main monitor "How do I phrase it? Our bad? No, too colloquial. 'A calculated error in judgment' or 'erroneous sensor data?' and accidentally wiped out the town's main water pump? Not my fault it wasn't contained in a building or at a dam,' He reasoned. 'Humans can create me, put a man on the moon and leave a relied upon system totally unprotected. Amazing.' Kitt pondered several of his misadventures with Michael, looking for inspiration on the wording. 'How about, 'per my programming dictates, I protected my pilot with an executed turbo boost?' He rejected it almost immediately. "Used already this month. "

The report cursor blinked then went backwards, erasing the last line. 'with fixable collateral damage,' spelled out letter by letter then the cursor moved backwards, erasing 'fixable.' A new word spelled itself out, 'associated.'

***Attempted apprehension of criminal element with associated collateral damage.* File saved for later upload. **

Michael exited the diner, carrying a white bag in one hand and a sealed cup in the other.

Kitt's sensors registered the cold temperature of the cup to the nth degree immediately. "What is that?" he asked, wanting to correlate data. Michael never went without coffee and any clue to his aberrant behavior should be noted.

"Slice of cake and a glass of orange juice."

"Cake? That is not a breakfast item."

"No, but it goes with milk. And that's all I'm going to say about it."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Sorry about the confusion last chapter. Kitt and Michael were arguing about a coffee pot type set-up being installed in Kitt. About the only thing he doesn't have Michael might want. Kitt would never go for it, too demeaning.

***7:48 am, Meeting with Sheriff L. Langley. Personal note: Send thank you to paint design team for choosing black as my body color.***

Kitt waited in the side lot of the courthouse, determined to keep a low profile. 'Michael could have FLAG request the records but no, we have to appear in person. First time he crosses the line I get impounded. Turbo boost to shoot me over a full semi truck, speed to outrun a jet, and I am held by quarter inch chain and a metal padlock on a police lot. Its demeaning to be treated the same as a car! I can only act if I perceive my driver is in imminent danger. How about imminent stupidity? Absurd situation if you ask me.' His systems linked into the police station frequency and single camera. 'Here we go.'

Michael strode into the station lobby, his boots clicking on the tile floor. 'Get the reports,' he thought. 'Let the sheriff know I'm on his side and not get arrested when our paths cross later. Maybe even put in a good word with Devon on how we helped once the case is solved.'

The on-duty officer looked up as the door chimed, then relaxing. "Be right there." He continued to overhear the one way conversation coming from the side office. Blonde, tall, and thin he looked almost too young to be in his uniform. Not one crease showed in the material and every strap and buckle was shined and fitted perfectly. Then the stranger cleared his throat, clearly wanting something. 'Oh bother. I'm going to miss overhearing the best part.' The officer turned smartly on his heel, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and faced Michael. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Sheriff Langley. He around?"

"Not exactly. Sheriff comes and goes as needed." The office smiled, clearly amused. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Got any more coffee?"

"Fresh out." He shrugged, keeping a professional distance. "Do you want to leave a message?"

"No, I need to talk to him in person. Any idea when he will be here?"

"Very soon, I'd guess." The officer replied, trying not to smirk. 'This is going to be fun to watch,' he thought. 'Man here has no idea what he is getting into without an appointment. And today especially. '

The sound of a phone being slammed down reverberated from the half open door. "Do you believe this? Does he have nothing better to do than call here?!" a female voice shouted. "Of all the incompetent, rude, chauvinistic, name calling-" the voice got louder and louder as she approached the open door and stomped out into the main room. Kitt recognized her instantly. The petite brunette from the diner the night before. The one not Michael's type.

"Farmer Nelson?" he asked her, indicating the person to whom she had been talking. The blonde cop laughed, turning to gesture at Michael standing patiently by the counter. "He's here to see the sheriff."

"Man is a nut case." She ignored them both, throwing pink message slips into the trash can. "Nelson is raving about aliens, crop circles and strange lights. The Sheriff's job is to keep citizens safe, not listen to crazies hours on end. And his ideas! Plants cactus in a cornfield!" She dropped her voice to sound rough and accented. "'Cacti are the next milk. Ya see. Healthy, fresh and thorns keep critters away.' Now he's seeing aliens."

"Is the sheriff going to be here soon?" Michael asked, "I have important business to discuss with him."

"I'm the sheriff." She said, turning back around. The phone rang; she glanced down at the caller id, picked it up then hung it up without saying a word. "Officer Jones, if Nelson calls again, hang up like a faulty disconnect. " She ordered.

"You're the sheriff?" He echoed, obviously not winning any points with her.

"Surprise!" She smiled up at him, batting her eyes. "My predecessor was a man who liked to chase women a little too young, before him was a gambler that lost this station in a poker deal at Vegas and the one before that had a drinking problem. When he wasn't drunk, we had a problem." The other officer picked up a file and disappeared into the side office, then leaned against the door, wanting to hear every word. "Town got fed up with them and elected me last year. An honest, upright citizen and head of the school PTA. Now what can I do for you, Mr. Knight?" She challenged.

"How did you know my name?"He asked, trying to regain his composure. All his preplanned speeches about mutual cooperation and getting a drink at the local bar later went to pieces.

"I have my sources, like your license plate. I also know you are an ex-cop, brag a lot and your hands tell me you're a brawler. Those marks aren't from pushing papers." She used the same tone she had used on her four sons when they were caught misbehaving.

"I don't want trouble. I'm from the Foundation for Law and Government. I was sent here to get copies of the damage reports." Michael rushed out, feeling on the spot. Outside, Kitt practically shook his entire chassis in amusement watching the video feed relay. Then an incoming signal code triggered his instant and full attention. His call to FLAG repair was being answered.

Inside the station the discussion continued. "Messenger boy huh? No can do." She raised a hand to forestall an objection. "They were sent to the county seat last week. We have more important stuff to handle. This town has unhappy farmers, torn up crops, missing fertilizer shipments, a city budget so tight we run short on bullets, and the last thing I need is more help." She sat on the edge of the desk. "Find Frank Hammer, always wears a black knit cap, has a scar down his chin from a water skiing accident as a teen. He's the town record keeper. "

Michael started, recognizing the description immediately. "Any idea where he is now? I think he might be involved with what's going on around here."

"Him? Yah right. Besides, what do I look like? The information desk? Jones, where's my coffee?"

"Blue cup right behind you ma'am. Right where you left it earlier."The officer stepped out, pointing to it then disappeared back into the office.

"So, Mr. Long," she paused to take a sip of her coffee as Michael froze. "Tale teller, as the Indians would say. What stories are you going to spin my way? Perhaps the mayor or the Judge?" The main door slammed open, as an older man, dressed in blue coveralls and faded boots hustled in the door.

"Sheriff, sheriff! Ain't ya got my messages?" He pushed past Michael to stand nose to nose with Sheriff Langley. "It's those aliens! They dun destroyed the city waters supply with one them laser beams."

"Fred, we have been through this." She rubbed her forehead, and then pursed her lips in exasperation. "Aliens attack cities or the military. Not our small town and your farm!"

"I'm telling you it ain't on other way." He gestured erratically, causing her to duck under his arm and off the desk.

"How about something hitting it?" She countered, stepping out of the way. Michael started edging for the door, not saying a word.

"Nope. I saw them white beams, then a big red beam that went left to right slicing it- then crash! Pieces everywhere! I got pipe out in my truck, you see! No char marks, no paint smears or cut marks on it. Nothing on this earth touched it, I swear! It was black and nothing but that red light. And what about those crop circles huh?"

"Officer Jones can assist you in filing the report. I need to deal with Mr. Knight here." She looked over at the empty counter and grinned. "Never mind, dealt with. I'll go look at the damage in person."

Outside, Kitt cut the camera link before anyone detected it. Michael practically ran towards him, as the driver side door opened. A single spark and the engine turbines roared to life. "Destination?"

"Anywhere but here buddy. "

Kitt obediently pulled out into traffic, guidance systems heading them back towards the hotel. 'Can't he be more specific than anywhere? I do all the calculations, correlate all the data, and what does he do? Get shot.' Kitt's thoughts tweaked for a nano second, remembering how many times Michael had been injured and he had sat in hospital parking lots. The incident at the dam when communications were lost and the metal blocked his scan attempts. Not knowing whether the gunshots he heard but could not see had killed Michael. The attack at the data center, watching the man shoot Michael repeatedly before driving between them to shield.

"Michael, may I ask something?"

"Depends on the question." He countered, making no move to take over driving.

"Why do you keep risking yourself unnecessarily? You are safe inside my interior. At least you could wear body armor?"

"Cases aren't solved sitting down. And you are my body armor. Let's focus on the case shall we? " He reached down to the center console, keying in the manual control override code.

Kitt released the steering and acceleration, recognizing Michael was uncomfortable with the discussion and the emotions involved. 'I will bring this up again. Humans avoid and forget. I do not. And Bonnie is coming with Devon. They will know what to do.' Belatedly, he realized Michael was talking.

"Earth to Kitt? The original call to Flag was anonymous right?" Michael continued without waiting for an answer. "Claiming to be an informant that's stolen a microchip with data on this operation, warns us to look for a man six foot nine inches. There are four known suspect vehicles, one of which is now in a cornfield, a town record keeper with a scar-"

"And black cap," Kitt said, bring up the face recognition scan from the night before onto the monitor.

"Disruption of farms, missing delivery supplies, unspecified contraband, and a woman sheriff." Michael finished.

"What does her gender have to do with her qualifications for the position?" Kitt asked.

"Uhm, nothing I suppose. Anything I missed?"

"No water?" Kitt teased, computing the probability of how quickly Michael would get them arrested.


	7. Chapter 7

***1:12 pm and following – Shady Acres Hotel, Suspect vehicle # 2 located, securing evidence, and update from the Sheriff. Add to Bonnie's fixit list: Replace grappling hook, cable, two front internal bumper brace cushions and one ramjet thrust sensor. Personal note: Have a bag of ice for Michael's new bruise when Bonnie finds out what we did.***

The hotel clerk looked up at the sound of a car pulling in. "Got to be that hotshot. Only he stirs up that much dust." Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside, nodding at the tall guy driving the black Pontiac Trans Am. "You can't park here," he gestured over to the heavy equipment parked all over the lot. Graders, shovel scoops, and a backhoe were staged in every available spot. "County is parking here to repair pipe work up town. You will have to use the field down the road, about two miles, for next few days. Everyone uses it. Just no 'for sale' signs allowed on the vehicles. It's for parking, not selling hot cars."

"Not interested in selling. Upgrading maybe." Michael commented with a smirk.

"I heard that," Kitt typed out on the monitor within the dash. The driver side window rolled up, cutting off further conversation. Kitt reversed the car, backing out to the main road then forward. Two miles further, a hand painted sign pointed right. They pulled into the lot, slowing to look at the vehicles.

"Looks like pickups and big rigs. Think you can handle being the only car?" Michael asked.

"Better than you handled the locals." Kitt teased.

"Very funny. Scan the license plates and compare vehicle makes to that wanted list."

"Confirmation. The truck, if you can call it that, left side, back space. The 1950's flatbed." The side boards were old fencing posts, rotted and half falling apart. A bit of barbed wire still wrapped around one, attached with a bent, rusty nail. Dinged, dirty fifty gallon barrels filled the back. "It's registered to green environmental services dot org. No address or name. Po Box only. "

Michael opened his door slowly, waiting to see if it would stay open. "I'm going to check it out. May be the break we need."

"Everything is breaking on that vehicle. Be careful." Every sensor and computation focused outward as the distance between them increased. "It's leaking oil. Not in par with environmental clean-up." Kitt stated while pulling data packets. "Records indicate no tickets, wants or warrants. Running physical analysis now. There are twelve barrels of used cooking oil, three empty barrels and the front four barrels are welded together, holding a metal box."

"Scan inside the box."

"Impossible. Its lead lined, standard military issue. Infrared red shows no detectable heat signature. Spectrum analysis indicates faint traces of explosives. C4 to be exact."

"Any chance I could get to that box for a closer look?"

"Negative. The barrels are strapped tightly together. You would have to remove the back row then slide the rest around to reach that container."

"Then we borrow the truck," Michael said.

"Borrow? I believe the correct term is steal. How exactly? I will not risk my alpha circuit again by towing a vehicle, especially a falling apart rusted behemoth like that. The strain on my internal compensators stresses the main line which damages my alpha circuit. I will not risk losing a third of internal computing power to be a tow truck. I did it once for you. Not again unless there is dire need. "

"I'll drive it." Michael responded with a slight shrug.

"No."

"Yes, I can and I will Kitt."

"I cannot protect you in that."

"I got out of worse when I was in the military, before I met you or Wilton Knight, remember?"

"And the steel plate in your head was bought at a souvenir shop I presume?" he retorted.

"That's low even for you."

"Low is six feet in the ground. And the last place either of us need to be. C4 is dangerous. Call the sheriff and let her impound it. Any evidence can then be used in court. "

"How much explosive handling do you think the locals here have?" Michael asked.

"A lot more than you if the sheriff finds you are stealing anything in her jurisdiction."

"What is your problem Kitt?" Michael turned, gesturing angrily.

"What is yours? You seem incapable of dealing with any female lately." There was dead silence on both of their parts.

Michael turned away, clenching his fists. He sighed, making a decision. "Bonnie is dating someone. It's serious." He admitted.

"Define serious."

"As in she spends her time between us and him. His stuff was in her room. Devon asked me to drop off her mail there. There were photos, trip mementos. The type of stuff that she use to have of us.

"Will she leave again?" Kitt asked sincerely.

I don't know…" A pickup then pulled in, halting Michael's words as it went out and around them, and the driver waved a friendly greeting before disappearing around a row of parked farm equipment. When he felt no immediate threat from the vehicle, he continued where he had let off, "I wanted to tell her…to explain that… but she's never there."

"Bonnie is coming." Kitt finally said. "I signalled for the FLAG repair semi last night. The echo confirmed arrival tomorrow morning. "

"What did she say?"

"Automated response only. But you can talk to her then. And hopefully update Devon with our progress. While the truck awaits."

Michael smiled, "Thanks buddy." He turned back to the flatbed, reaching for the door handle then stopped. He pulled, pushing the stiff button in. "It's locked."

"More like rusted. X-ray detects no lock mechanism and the presence of several abandoned mouse nests. Just pull, Michael."

"I am," he grunted, arms straining, metal scraping on metal and then suddenly it was free. He stumbled backwards, trying to regain footing. "Amazing, it didn't fall off." Climbing up and in, he sat on the seat gingerly, wiping his hands from the buildup of dust. It sunk and was lumpy but held. "Who drove this last?'" He slid the seat forward until his six foot plus height could reach the pedals. "Odd. Smells like old grease and onions."

"You should feel right at home. Need me to jump start it?"

"No, keys are in the ignition."

"Keys have nothing to do with a dead battery, Michael. The owner was probably hoping someone would take it no doubt." He said nothing as the engine sputtered to life. Then it died. It sputtered again then died. It sputtered, blowing a puff of black smoke out the tailpipe. Creaking, the engine shifted into gear and died again. Kitt watched Michael pound on the steering wheel, pumping the gas, trying again and again to get it started and moving. It revved, the noise almost deafening. Shaking, it moved forward slowly towards the exit and onto the road. "How humiliating."

Rolling down the road, Michael ground his teeth, wishing he had ear plugs. The truck shook as he forced the shifter into the next gear. Glancing in the mirror, he saw Kitt following faithfully. "What's up ahead?" he yelled into the comm unit.

"Two miles of curvy downhill road. Shift into lower gear, braking slowly. The county line is four miles beyond that. I'm sure you have a plan."

"I always have a plan." Michael said. The gear shifter screeched as he dropped it into second. A downgrade warning sign flashed by on the side of the road. "Time to slow down." The brake pedal pressed lower, lower then flat, touching the floor. The truck continued to gain speed. Michael pumped the pedal to the floor rapidly. "Kitt! The brakes aren't working! Use the micro lock!"

"Already engaged!" Kitt raised the volume through his external speakers. He had monitored everything on and around the truck and detected the exact moment when the speed began to reach critical. "The signal triggers anti lock brakes and electronic systems. That rust bucket has manual disc brakes. There is nothing to trigger beyond a cable and the pedal. My systems are too advanced."

"What do you mean too advanced, Kitt? Great!" His hands tightened on the steering wheel, forcing the truck to stay on the road. "Can't you use something else? Or get close enough for me to jump?"

Kitt accelerated, paralleling the truck. He opened his passenger side sun roof, and waited.

Michael grabbed the door handle, twisting it, and then with a snap, the rusty piece broke off in his hand. He stared at it in disbelief before tossing it to the right. He punched the window glass, bouncing off it. "Plastic?" It was glued in place with dark goop all around it. "I need help here!"

Kitt slammed on his brakes, falling in behind the truck as it slid around the next curve. A small panel opened under his front bumper. The guidance system focused on the truck ahead. The grappling hook shot out, and with a clank, hooked the top of the bumper and Kitt began reeling it back. His tires spun, peeling parts of the pavement up. Kevlar and admantium, they were made to withstand bullets and insure smooth handling at high speeds. No programmer had ever designed them to stop any mass greater than his own. Sliding, he gunned his turbines, struggling to stay in control. The rope grew taunt and sensors detected the stress warping the metal. "Oh dear," Kitt said, anticipating the outcome. With a shearing sound, the bumper broke free of the truck, bouncing on the pavement and headed straight towards the car.

Clink!

Clank!

Clang!

The bumper bounced on the pavement as Kitt swerved to the left, releasing the grappling cable. The car watched it bounce to the side of the road and slide down the embankment out of view. The truck slid around the corner, heading onto a straightaway.

A million options went through Kitt's processors in the matter of milliseconds as he tried to figure out the best course of action. 'Microwave Jammer? Electromagnetic Field Disruptor? Ineffective. They would disrupt the engine but not stop him. X-ray? Need that after the crash. Thermo Dynamic Generator? Blowing the tires equals no traction. Laser? Missile? Only to hide the evidence we were here. EMP? Kill the engine with no slowing and no power steering.' An entire list of abilities scrolled past. Oil slick, phone tap, radar, ski mode, smoke release, surveillance lock, ultra scan, voice analyzer, until it reached the very first entry ever added by the design team to his capabilities list. Turbo boost.

His scanner flared, tracking rapidly side to side as he slowed, letting the truck pull ahead. "Turbo engaged." Kitt soared overhead, then landed with a double bump and accelerated further down the road. Doing a 180 degree spin, he faced forward, reading every detail in under a second. "My front bumper is reinforced to handle punching through walls. It will handle the impact of the truck." Shifting into reverse, he accelerated rapidly, keeping ahead of the oncoming vehicle.

"Michael, I have to get you below fifty miles per hour or the truck will slide sideways and tip." Driving in reverse, he monitored in all directions, grateful no other traffic was nearby."Engaging retro rockets at quarter power, now." The bumper slammed against his armor shell, sparking. Kitt skated backwards, unable to gain traction. "Half power," he chimed. A ramjet thruster sensor failed. Another registered imminent failure. Their speed dropped below forty slowly. Realizing it still wasn't enough, he then engaged three quarter power. A mile later, they both slowed to a stop, the truck wedged tight against the car.

Michael breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest. He sheepishly removed his foot from the brake pedal, unclamping both hands from the steering wheel. "Well, we are past the county line." Kitt answered nothing, running internal diagnostics.

A lone figure approached on the right, tilting his head at the sight on the road at the end of his driveway. Clad in coveralls, boots and hold a pitchfork, he chewed side to side then gestured to Michael to hop out the passenger side.

"Next time," the farmer spat out his tobacco as he smirked. "Pull the car boy. Don't push like a darn mule. "

"I'll try that. Thanks." Michael panted, grateful to be on solid ground. A quick glance showed no apparent damage to Kitt. He watched the farmer, unsure how to explain what had happened to bring them all there.

"Might as well park that here. Bessie and the girls won't mind."

"Girls?" Michael repeated.

The farmer pointed over at the cows beyond the far fence. "Don't upset them. Scared cows don't give milk. Lucky for you the ditch ends up there. Push that a few feet into yon field, watch where you step." He said as Michael slid sideways on a cow patty. "You got until the end of the week to move it. Going to see my daughter next state over until then. Farm hand feeds the girls every morning, he won't bother ya none." He waved, walking back towards the farm house.

"Devon is requesting an update." Kitt said. "What should I tell him?"

"Send the logs up to this morning and nothing more. Let him know we are tracking down evidence, buddy."

"Tracking is right. This field is muck! Surely you are not going to walk through that and get back inside me?"

"You got a better idea?" He asked, wiping his boot on the nearby fence.

Kitt rolled forward, angling towards him. "Balance on my hood, then get in," the car paused. "I will push that gargantuan into the field. But you owe me Michael."

'It's worth it," he answered, struggling to balance on the smooth armor of the car. With a push, he hopped the door, flopping on the driver seat. "Are you up to it?"

"Now you ask me? Wait, another call inbound, from Sheriff Langley." Kitt announced.

"The sheriff?" Michael asked as he began picking the hay out of his hair. "Put it through and hide any background noise. " The windows rolled up, as Kitt turned his engine off.

"Mr. Knight, quick call. I'm driving back from the pipe assembly. Got a question to ask." The Sherriff's voice came over Kitt's Audio.

"I've got an answer," Michael said, as sweat rolled down his cheek. He brushed it away. Kitt readily read Michael's body temperature and determined he was either hot or nervous. He turned the air conditioning on, maximizing the cooling while keeping the fan down low for noise.

"You free in about an hour? Records came back from the county clerk. Frank forgot to add a motion and order to file them. They're here if you want to look."

"I have to check my schedule a minute," he pantomimed a cutting motion.

"Silenced. May I suggest you return to the hotel room, get clean, and eat something. Then go to the sheriff's office. We can return here after dark to examine the barrels." Kitt rotated the rear view mirror to show his partner how rumpled and sweaty he actually looked.

He only shook his head, "Yeah, alright buddy. You never know. She might be attracted to me this way."

"I think not. Reengaging the micro call line."

"Two hours will be fine sheriff. See you then." Michael told her.

"See my officer. I got work to do. Hope you find whatever you are looking for and leave. Otherwise I might surprise you. Goodbye." She broke the connection.

"I don't like surprises Michael." Kitt said.

"I don't either. Let's get this moved."

Author's Note: Thanks to my beta readers! Liomaskb, and my KR fan and editor starseeded. Need all the help you can give me. And yes, I've been watching the original series on DVD to learn Kitt's stuff and how they both talk and joke back and forth. Comments and suggestions welcome.


End file.
